


I'm Not Crying (Cause You're Not Gone)

by secondhand_watermelon



Series: Tumblr Prompts: Wheel of Mythicality Endings [2]
Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Really Character Death, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Tumblr Prompt, Wheel of Mythicality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:55:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23157433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secondhand_watermelon/pseuds/secondhand_watermelon
Summary: From the Wheel of Mythicality Endings prompt: Rhett keeps thinking that Link is about to cry.Rhett's not really dead. Link's not really crying.Things feel too real, all the same.
Relationships: Rhett McLaughlin/Link Neal
Series: Tumblr Prompts: Wheel of Mythicality Endings [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664602
Comments: 5
Kudos: 46





	I'm Not Crying (Cause You're Not Gone)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to anonymous who prompted this Wheel ending on Tumblr! Part two of the collection.

Rhett glances at Link as the wheel spins, taking in the firm set to his mouth and the way he is carefully _not_ looking at Rhett in his monitor, much less turning to face him. Ostensibly he’s gazing soulfully into the camera, waiting for the perfect, precise moment to welcome their most dedicated fans to _Good Mythical More_ , but Rhett knows he is still pissed off over losing the game in the episode they’re concluding. Sure, it’s a running gag that Link loses almost every game, and most of the fans seemed to love it, but every once in a while it gets under Link’s skin, even if he claims he isn’t competitive. Usually it’s the worst when Rhett is being an insufferable prick after winning, and Rhett admits that that is the case today. With a sigh, he turns to take in the nearly unreadable scrawl determining the episode’s impromptu sketch from the wheel as Link rattles off his catchphrase: “Welcome to Good Mythical More!”

_“Rhett keeps thinking Link is about to cry.”_

They decided to use the old prompt wheel for one week in celebration of 1800 episodes, and Rhett has enjoyed it so far, but Link seems less into each improv as the week goes on. Rhett suspects his cranky mood will not make today’s sketch any more interesting or fun. He reads the prompt aloud and waits for Link to turn to him, to pull a face or rapidly blink fake tears from his eyes. Instead, Link is looking directly into the camera still.

“Link?”

“Sometimes I think I can still hear him,” Link says quietly, and Rhett can feel his expression shifting to one of confusion. “It’s been nearly a month now, but what’s one month compared to 37 years?”

 _Oh._ Rhett scowls, picking up on Link’s intentions immediately. Link is going to pretend to be _about to cry_ because he’s literally killing Rhett off in this improv, cutting him out of the sketch entirely. He must be really pissed off.

“Mythical Beasts, all I can say is, I’m glad you’re still with me, tuning in every day to _Good Mythical Morning_ even when…” Link hesitates, and Rhett can see the bob of his adam’s apple traversing the length of his throat. “Even when, arguably, it’s been a month full of the worst mornings of my life, and maybe of yours.”

Rhett blinks. Link’s face is unreadable in profile, but a quick glance in the monitor reveals that his mouth has softened, that the annoyance that had been clear in his expression has turned to something else in just a few sentences. Maybe Link planned to do an improv where Rhett had died mysteriously, just to emphasize how ticked off he was at his best friend, but Rhett knows him. He knows that every time they sit down to do even the most necessary, business-focused preparations for the loss of one or the other--or both--of them, Link becomes quiet and morose for hours, sometimes days afterward, his entire body and personality shrinking in on themselves and becoming smaller, somehow _lesser_ even at the thought of the loss of his other half.

“Link,” he says again, unable to keep all the tenderness and concern that he can feel rising in his chest from his tone, threatening to choke him even though _this is just a sketch, just improv, this isn’t real and I’m not dead and Link is not alone_.

Link tugs off his glasses and throws them to the desk with a clatter, bringing up one hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. Rhett inhales sharply and leans in. Link still won’t look at him, but Rhett can see the telltale tremble of his shoulders. Link genuinely is about to cry--or pretend to.

“I know we can all still feel him in this room,” Link mumbles into his hand, soft enough that the mic will have to struggle to pick up his voice. “Maybe we think we can see him, sitting in that empty chair, just waiting to win another stupid game, make me feel like a loser, _again_.” There’s a hint of the anger returning to Link’s voice now, but it’s still quiet, still a bit choked up, and Rhett is stunned to see tears shimmering in his eyes when Link drops his hand.

“Nobody knew how to piss me off like that man, Mythical Beasts. And as much as I hated losing all the time, mostly ‘cause he was such a _crappy_ winner...I’d give anything to lose to him, just one more time.” A single tear slips down Link’s face, and Rhett can’t help it, it’s too much.

He reaches over and gathers the tear on the end of one calloused fingertip, leaning in so close, too close, to Link’s face. _Where is the punchline?_

“Link,” he whispers, one more time. Link finally turns as if to look at him, but his gaze goes right past Rhett, as if he were truly a ghost. Rhett feels a shiver run down his spine.

“Miss you, buddy,” Link says softly, and Rhett abruptly feels tears spring to his own eyes. It’s too much, _too much_.

“Uh, Link?” It’s Stevie, her voice ringing out over the producer’s mic. Clearly she feels the need to break into the improv, lighten the mood somehow, and Rhett couldn’t be more grateful in this moment. Somehow Link, who struggled to even pull off a crying scene in _Buddy System_ without torturing himself with thoughts of how crappy he was at fake-crying, has brought them both to tears with a freaking _wheel ending_. What the actual hell.

“You know Rhett isn’t really dead, right? He’s sitting right next to you.”

“Oh, I know,” Link says quickly, turning back to the camera, suddenly dry-eyed. He gives the fans watching a little smile. “Just demonstrating that I’m better at _something_ , and that _something_ is freaking _acting_ , man!” He gives a little fist pump, and Rhett swallows past the lump in his throat to give his friend and the camera an annoyed glare.

“Glad to know that your very mature response to me winning a game is to kill me off, Link,” he replies. He’s not really angry, per se, but somehow Link’s act has brought up emotions for him that he wasn’t expecting, ones that are not at all welcome in front of cameras and crew with another ten minutes of More to shoot. He shoves a hand through his shoulder-length hair, dragging it back from his face, and forces a smile. “But yeah, buddy, that was some good acting. Guess you win, uh, wheel endings for today.”

Link grins, and they launch into eating weird veggie-and-dip combinations suggested by the fans. Rhett hams it up for the camera, screws up his face and gags a bit on the hummus-and-chocolate-sauce with cauliflower, and somehow makes it through the rest of the shoot. When the final _cut_ is yelled, he can’t help it; he pushes his chair back too hard, too fast, and makes a beeline for the office.

Link is right behind him, it turns out, and Rhett goes to slam the office door behind him when it stops against Link’s outstretched hand. Rhett turns, sees him, and huffs out, “Seriously, man, maybe just give me a few minutes.”

“I’m sorry,” Link says immediately, and Rhett pauses, stops in the middle of the floor, and allows Link to close the door behind them, walk over to stand in front of him. “I’m sorry, man. I was ticked off and I thought it would be funny to fake-cry and act like you were dead cause I just didn’t want to deal with you right then. You always win, and yeah, I know I shouldn’t care, but sometimes I do, but--Rhett. I don’t want you _dead_ , man, just cause you win a game, and I’m sorry. It was way, way too much.”

Rhett sighs. “Link,” he says quietly, and just the act, just saying Link’s name in that way, that soft tone, hurtles him back to the weirdness of the improv and watching Link cry and, just like that, the lump in his throat is back. Link looks miserable. He reaches out, curls his hands around Link’s shoulders, and the smaller man shrinks in on himself, sways into Rhett’s body.

“It was just a joke. I’m so dumb. I don’t know when to quit.”

“Link,” Rhett murmurs, letting himself sink into the moment, feeling all his irritation and that dark, nameless emotion that had settled itself over him wash away at the feel of his friend’s head against his chest. He dares to bring one hand up, wrap it around the back of Link’s neck, and brush his thumb softly against the long curling silver-dark hair at his nape.

“So stupid. Don’t want you to die. Don’t even wanna pretend you’re dead. I know we’ve done it before, done skits where one of us has died, but I dunno, it’s planned out, and this time it got weird, and I--”

“Link.” It’s a whisper now. Rhett lets himself breathe in the scent of Link’s hair before tipping his friend’s head back, looking down into familiar blue eyes. He smiles, just a tiny smile, before realizing that Link’s face is streaked with tears. A soft sigh escapes his lips. “ _Link._ ”

“Just say you forgive me and we can move on. You know how I get about this stuff, sometimes.”

Rhett hesitates. He could break the spell, make this a normal conversation, clap his friend on the back and say, _Yeah, no harm done, it’s just acting. Don’t get all weird, now_. But he’s been in therapy for years, and so has Link by this point, and they’re both trying so hard to be real and raw, even when it’s scary, even when they want to put up a wall of humor and bro-dom. So he does none of those things, refuses to give in to a lifetime of hypermasculine urges.

“Link,” he says, imbuing that single word with all the friendship, the love, the years, the _everything_ on the surface and beneath it, and pulls Link back into him, wrapping his arms around the other man entirely. He’s not sure if Link will understand, if he’ll force a verbal processing conversation, or if he’ll deem this moment enough.

Link is still for a moment before wrapping his arms around Rhett as well, finally. They stand in the middle of their office, on what should be an ordinary day, and hold each other for comfort against the _someday_ they both prefer not to think about. Rhett can feel Link’s breathing slow, even out, and he closes his eyes.

Apparently, it’s enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr @ secondhand-watermelon.


End file.
